


Not Dead, Just Sold On

by sharkcar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anthropology, Choices, Falling In Love, Family, Freedom, Helplessness, Hope, Hutts, Jerba Ribs, Kanos Grain Cake, Love, Motherhood, Oppression, Parenthood, Raising children, Self-Sacrifice, Skywalker Name, Slavery, Tatooine, Tatooine Slave Culture, Toydarians, Weequay, Zygerria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkcar/pseuds/sharkcar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shmi Skywalker is not really permitted to speak to free people, but she takes the risk and speaks to the boy because she is missing her son. Later, as his family asks her to help them purchase a slave to be their son's bride, Shmi reflects on her early years, the different phases of her slave life, and the miraculous birth of her son. She also remembers how he was taken away, or as the slave motto goes, 'Not dead, just sold on.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Dead, Just Sold On

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue from Star Wars Episode I by George Lucas.

I noticed him because we don’t get many human children in Mos Espa who aren’t slaves. I knew that he wasn’t one because he had a toy. The toy ship was a factory made toy, not some handmade ragdoll or gourd rattle that a slave youngling might possess, but a real toy from a store, probably off-world. He was somewhat chubby, with shaggy blonde hair. My son had had the same kind of hair. Most boys do in the desert climate, dusty and dry, the same color as the sand. It is a lucky child indeed who would be gifted with hair that did not look dull on Tatooine. This child couldn’t have been more than twelve. At the age where he didn’t mind having a toy but where he would not be seen playing with it imaginatively. He was merely twirling it in his fingers and looking bored. I smiled at him. He smiled back. I hadn’t talked much to little boys since Watto had moved me out of the slave quarters and into his place. I was missing my son, already gone a year. Not dead, just sold on. That’s what we slaves say by way of remembrance of each other. Both are the same in concept to us, we can no longer see our loved ones either way, so we connect the ideas. We figuratively see the afterlife as going to serve a new master, and sold on is equated with disappearing from our world. So you see, the concepts are the same as far as we are concerned. I understood that. I knew that I might never see my son again, but at least when you say the motto, you can hold out hope that you will see each other again. That someone might not have died and that they could one day return.  
  
I wasn’t supposed to speak to someone without my master’s permission. My son had done it all the time, but he was beaten for the breach of protocol. I was just glad he was merely beaten, not more than that. It was a light punishment by slave standards. And Anakin was a strong, stubborn little boy. He felt he could endure beatings for the chance at a little freedom. His pride demanded that he remain defiant. The beatings never stopped him from doing what he wanted. “I’m okay, Mom,” he would always say with a smile. And he would grit his teeth, stand up and live to speak again, whenever he wanted. Secretly, it made me proud of him. I lacked his courage or his cavalier nature. But that day, to honor the memory of my son, I spoke to the little boy.  
  
He was standing alone, leaning against a heavy duty speeder. It had water tanks lashed in the back, ready to be sold in market. It was common to leave someone with the vehicle in Mos Espa, but mostly it was the out-of-towners who did. We city folk knew each other, if something got stolen, we’d know where to look.   
  
“Hello there. Are you waiting for your parents?”  
  
“Yeah,” he smiled. I could tell he was a boy who didn’t get much attention. Many little boys would just have ignored me, but he responded, “My mom and dad are in town for a supply run. We’re also in town to buy me a girlfriend.”  
  
That gave me some trepidation. I knew it happened, it was customary. I had seen it often, poor farmers from remote parts bringing slaves into their households to fill roles in underpopulated areas. His family probably lived hours from their nearest neighbors by speeder. The likelihood of meeting suitable partners for sons or daughters was low, so slaves were bought. They were usually freed, I’d heard. What made me nervous was that in Mos Espa, we didn’t have a slave market. This meant that they were buying someone in a private transaction, probably buying someone I knew. Someone would be sold on today. I felt sad for some of my friends that had young daughters.  
  
“A girlfriend, but you’re so young, why do you need a girlfriend now?” I knew I couldn’t presume to be judgmental, I was a slave, I had no right to be. Maybe the girl they picked would have an improved life.  
  
“We had a good harvest this year. We had the money for the fuel and expenses. Next year or the year after, who knows?” it sounded like he was repeating what he had overheard the adults say.  
  
“Where are you from?” I was trying to get a little information in case the girl’s parents might one day have the chance to find her. We couldn’t count on them ever having the means or opportunity, but that was what I would have wanted people to do for me. I had no idea where my son had been taken. I had heard of Coruscant, of course, but it might have well been a fairy tale for all I knew. I just knew that my son deserved better than I was able to give him, so I believed the word of a stranger because of my desperate hope that something could improve for him. It was a risk, but you can’t understand that kind of desperation unless you have been as helpless as I was.  
  
“Anchorhead, near Mos Eisley,” he said matter-of-factly and looked down at the toy spinning between his fingers.  
  
“My, that is a long way,” I said, trying to sound kind, but I feared that it may have sounded like I was being condescending. My tone with my little boy had always been very gentle. My little boy had been my everything. I coddled him as much as I could, I spoiled him as much as possible, I protected him as much as I was allowed. We were never harsh with each other. The universe was harsh enough. I suppose I was raising a momma’s boy. He could be immature, as a result. But I was not thinking of how to raise a man, I was just savoring every day I had with him.  
  
But this little boy didn’t seem to mind. He probably didn’t speak often to sentients who weren’t in his family, probably only once a week to Anchorhead for supplies. Kindness was in short supply on Tatooine. He seemed to like the maternal attention.  
  
“Yeah. First time I’ve been here, I have already seen some new ships, though.”   
  
Not to compare them, but my son, Anakin, could have told you every model of ship, droid, and speeder and given details on their designs even at six or seven. I knew my son was smart compared to other children. I missed him very badly right then.  
  
“Owen, let’s go,” a gruff voice sounded behind me. I turned to see a grizzled looking man dressed like most moisture farmers, with tunic, boots, and utility belt. His hair was graying and his eyebrows were thick. A woman and a girl followed. The girl looked something like Owen, around the eyes. I decided she was his younger sister. The woman, presumably the mother, had a thin, humorless face and a long nose. She lowered her eyebrows at him and Owen jumped obediently into the speeder.  
  
Owen looked at me apologetically, but he did not wave as they drove off. The parents had not acknowledged me. They knew what I was. I wasn’t worth their consideration.  
  
\--  
I know the rule that we slaves live by is that we are all truly alone. That never seems to stop us from caring for people, we are still sentient beings after all. Love is the most natural impulse creatures have, I think. Yet, we slaves all knew that anyone could be taken from us at any time and we were resigned to it. To fight would have been futile. We could never win. This is what makes slavery so inhumane, it is an institution designed to rob us of even the most fundamental impulses.  
  
I was luckier than many slaves, I knew. I saw that all around me, harsh masters who humiliated and degraded their property, slaves who had less than I did, there were even free people who starved to death in the streets. I could not help them, it was not permitted. I comforted those I could and I shared what I had. Selfishness didn’t make sense to me. The least I could do was to be appreciative for everything I had, because I knew that it could always be worse.  
  
I was sold in a vast slave market almost as soon as I could walk. It is my first memory. I recall the strange faces, the noises, the clink of the chains, people shouting, the fear. I know I had a family once, but I can’t remember anything about them. I don’t even know what world the slave market was on, never mind where I came from. I had no past.  
  
I had been a pretty child, so I was bought and kept as a sort of a pet by the lady of the house that I belonged to. She was the young wife of a Zygerrian merchant. She liked to dress me up and treat me like a doll. She even kept me on a golden chain attached to her belt. It wasn’t all bad. She hugged me a lot. I think she loved me in some way. When she had her own children, she unchained me. All of us children played together. I sat with them while they did their lessons. I learned, too. Some slaves are never allowed the chance to learn to read or write.  
  
The Zygerrians once had the greatest slave trading empire in the galaxy. Their philosophy was that some beings were born better than others, that some beings were only suited to serve. The strong were entitled to oppress the weak. Only, even as I child, I didn’t think I agreed that it could be as simple as that. What of those who never had the chance to be strong, I wondered, those of us who were oppressed until we were broken and for whom resistance would have meant death? Even if we had potential, we were not permitted to be more than what was decided for us. I vowed secretly to never squander any choices I was given. Choices were rare gifts. Choices are freedom.  
  
I was finally sold when I was fourteen. I had always known that it could happen at any time, they discussed it freely in my presence and threatened it often if I disobeyed. It was supposed to make me afraid. When the time truly came, I was afraid. My mistress had grown bored with her husband and she took her divorce settlement. She left me with her husband, thinking that I should stay with the children, but he sent his children to live with family and sold many of his slaves. They each made totally selfish decisions that had nothing to do with me, but it was my world that was turned upside down. No one ever said that life is fair.  
  
I was sold to a middle man who took me directly to Tatooine. He did not try to harm me, I am relieved to say. He was a Sugi and his cargo was mostly weapons. There were a few slaves on board, chained together. We were just ballast, able bodies who would help him unload cargo when we reached our destination and who could be sold when we reached port. Once we were brought to the slave marked in Mos Pelgo, I never saw any of the others again.  
  
We were made to stand in a line while we were inspected by potential buyers. I kept my head down, but I was quickly brought forth and my master gave my chain to Gardulla the Hutt and collected his payment. I was afraid at first. I had never seen a Hutt. They were wrinkled masses of skin and fat, with large bulging eyes and worm tails. I did not know what to expect, but from her fearsome appearance, I thought that it was nothing good. I honestly believed for a while that she intended to eat me. I had heard dreadful things about Tatooine from the other slaves, so anything seemed possible. When I realized that Gardulla wasn’t just going to fatten me up for a meal, I was genuinely relieved.  
  
Gardulla was not quite the monster that I expected. Some Hutts liked to keep slaves on a chain, but only the more sadistic ones. It was not necessary, slaves had restraining chips under the flesh to keep them from running. Gardulla had no time for that nonsense. She did not feel the need to raise her status by humiliating others, which might have been what passed for morality in the Hutt culture. It was a surprisingly principled stance for a Hutt, one for which her underlings were grateful. She was no fool, by being respectful to her servants, she made them loyal to her. I tried to be respectful in return. We would never share genuine love, I knew, love, even the love between friends, must be given freely and I was not free. But we were friends in the way that we could be, merely, she did not treat me badly and I was grateful.  
  
Strictly speaking, I worked for her protocol droid who ran Gardulla’s house. But honestly, I was the one who had to fix him whenever he broke down, so really, I ran the house. I was set to work of course. I cleaned, the floors had to be scrubbed often. Hutts naturally secrete a lot of slime. The sand had to be swept out at least twice a day. It got everywhere.  
  
I also kept Gardulla’s kitchen garden. It was an artificial swamp in a greenhouse behind her house with plants and animals that she liked to eat from the Hutt home world. I would say that I was her cook, since I prepared her food, but the Hutts ate their food raw. I never cooked anything. I would just bring her buckets of things I’d collected. It was a near constant job, the Hutts never seem to stop eating. I’d tuck my skirts up and wade into the green water. It smelled a bit, but the filtration system kept it clean enough to support life. Most people on Tatooine never got to be near that much water. Once in a while, if it was a hot day, I would dip myself in for a bath.  
  
Mostly, I tried to make myself useful but invisible. That was how Gardulla liked me to be. She gave me a last name, since Hutts find that amusing. I didn’t know why I needed more than one name. It was something she made up, like most slave names. Like most Hutts, she picked something slightly flashy sounding, that helped with their salesmanship to make their slaves seem more exciting than they were, either to raise their status by showing off their interesting possessions or to make us sound desirable when they put us up for sale. I didn’t choose it. I thought it made me sound like some kind of circus performer. My life didn’t have anything flashy in it. The name ‘Skywalker’ sometimes felt like kind of an absurd joke, an identity that I could never live up to.  
  
The house was Gardulla’s sanctuary, she conducted her meetings and transacted business elsewhere. I knew there were thugs and animals outside the house, inhabiting out buildings, guarding fences and walls. Hutt houses were fortresses, for good reason. Hutts were always in conflict with each other. Gardulla feared getting hit by rival gangsters at any time so the place had to be secure. Gardulla didn’t allow men in her private space. They annoyed her. She had been married once, but had had her husband killed once she could consolidate his empire behind her. The only other creatures allowed in the house were a group of Weequay women that served as Gardulla’s bodyguard. I waited on them, too. They spent a lot of time drinking and playing dice. They were loud and boisterous, listening to music on the grainy Outer Rim broadcast, telling dirty stories and laughing as I blushed. But they were nice to me. Besides Gardulla, they were the only sentients I ever saw. I was there for years, never permitted to leave the house and yard. It was a prison, but at least for me it was a safe prison.  
  
I could see the stars at night if I sat in the yard surrounded by a wall, and the three moons going through their phases. I could count time. I could tell when it was summer or winter by how the air felt.  
  
One night, I was sleeping outside because indoors it was nearly unbearable. I felt a sound in my ears, like a low rumble. I thought at first it was the wind, but it was summer, when the air is stagnant. I opened my eyes to see what was there, but I was alone. I lay back down to try to get comfortable and I closed my eyes and had a dream, what I thought was a dream. I’m still not sure. I was holding a very small child in my lap. He reached up and wrapped his arms around my neck and my heart felt that it would nearly burst. He whispered in my ear, “Will you?” I began to tremble, not with fear, but with intense emotion. No one had touched me kindly in years.   
  
I hugged him tightly and buried my face in his shoulder, “Yes,” I whispered back.  
  
I didn’t realize right away that I was pregnant. I attributed any change in my state to malnutrition. Gardulla’s gambling career had been on a bit of a losing streak at that time. Her debts were starting to become a liability in her business, as she had to scramble for cash. She was squeezing her empire and it was at the point of slipping through her stubby brown fingers. I listened to her rant about it night after night as I brought in the food and cleaned up the mess. But food was getting scarcer. She was thinking about selling me. By the time Gardulla turned her luck around, I could feel the baby moving inside of me.  
  
I had led a sheltered life, but I was no ninny, I knew where babies came from. But I hadn’t seen a man in fifteen years. I couldn’t explain it. Yet, I knew that I was pregnant. The baby was connected to me. I felt his presence in every cell of my body. I didn’t say anything until one day Gardulla asked me. “Yes,” I answered in Huttese and kept my head lowered.  
  
“I’ll find out who the father is eventually. I’ll find out who he is and how he got in and if I find out you helped him, I’ll punish you as I see fit,” she was being very fair under the circumstances, I thought. She didn’t know if I’d been willing, after all. “Make sure it stays healthy.” Human slaves were desirable in the Outer Rim, we were versatile and could adapt well to harsh environments. Another slave would be an asset if he survived childhood. Hutts are good at seeing the up side of circumstances, it wasn’t that they had optimistic outlooks, it was just good business.  
  
My baby was more than that to me. He woke me out of my long trance. As if I’d been drowning under the dark ocean and had finally been pulled to the surface for a breath. He gave me something to hope for. I knew even before he was born that he deserved better than a slave’s life. I vowed to do anything I could to help him get it. My burdens seemed lighter just knowing that I had a purpose. I would go about my tasks, the same as before, but singing. I sang what songs I could remember, or along with the Weequay songs on the broadcasts. Other songs I just made up. I always had a smile where before I had always gone about with a blank expression. I joked with the bodyguards and made them special treats. Even Gardulla seemed less miserable. I remember the waiting as a happy time.  
  
My son came into the world one day, quite unexpectedly. I was not sure how long I had been pregnant, but my last month had become uncomfortable as the weather turned warmer in the spring. I remember standing up suddenly to move a bucket of water on the back terrace, and I guess I fainted. I woke up in a bit of a daze in my small room as the pain of the contractions started. Some of the bodyguards were there helping me, telling me to breathe to ride out the pain. Some of them had given birth and so they knew how to assist me. They guided me through the tears and the blood until I gave one last push. For the first time in my life that I could remember, I screamed. Then suddenly, I heard that tiny cry of a person taking their first breath. The women wrapped him in a piece of cloth and handed him to me, small and perfect. In all my life, I had never known a moment of such joy.  
  
Then, before he was an hour old, the protocol droid came for Anakin with the restraining chip. I didn’t see where it was located precisely, they are made to migrate so that they cannot be found and extracted. But it was injected into his right hand. He screamed with pain as it burrowed deep into his flesh. It could be deactivated, but was designed to never be removed.  
  
The first few months were an adjustment, but one I was happy for. My diet was generally better than that of most slaves. There was always plenty of protein if you weren’t picky. Gardulla had broken her losing streak and the supplies in the swamp were plentiful again. I could eat as many snails or toads as I wanted. I cooked mine first. As a baby, Anakin would eat anything, worms, bugs, he was always hungry. Once he was old enough to walk, he would follow me, splashing in the water of the kitchen garden.  
  
He figured out early on how to disable the protocol droid. The first time I ever saw Gardulla act violently towards him was when she caught him taking the coverings off the droid to see the wires underneath. She smacked him away so hard he hit the wall. I couldn’t say anything. I just got him out of her way and promised her that it would never happen again. The next day the droid started to smoke and burst into flames. It took a month to find a new droid that was suitable.  
  
Anakin was a sweet child. He was always finding scraps of junk to play with and putting small parts together. It was a pursuit that kept him constantly filthy, but he used to bring me the things he’d built and display them proudly. I didn’t scold. I encouraged him to tell me everything he could about it.  
  
As he grew a little older, he grew more curious. We would look up at the stars at night and he would ask me questions about space. I had been off world and he loved for me to tell the same old stories over and over, about what it was like outside of Tatooine. I’d tell him the ones that weren’t frightening. Each night, when he went to sleep, I would remind myself. He deserves better than this.  
  
Gardulla got herself into trouble again. This time, the spiral brought her lower. She didn’t just talk about selling us, she bet everything she could spare on one race that she thought was a sure thing. I didn’t know how it had turned out until our new owner came to take possession. Gardulla didn’t tell me. She was not there when Watto came to take deed and title to her ship and speeder, and the deactivator devices for our restraining chips. I was worried that she had sold me and not my son, but thankfully, he was part of the bargain. That was how we ended up in Mos Espa.  
  
\--  
  
Watto couldn’t afford my old home in the co-op slave quarters any more after Anakin left. He had bet everything he could on that awful Boonta Eve race. So I had been forced to come and set up in a room in the back of the shop. It had been Anakin’s work space, so it was filled with broken parts and tools. It smelled of oil and ozone. It comforted me to be in a room that smelled like my son always had. The machinist equipment was taken away by the creditors. Watto kept the tools that Anakin hadn’t taken. So the room was practically empty after that. I made a sleeping pallet on Anakin’s old work bench and swept out the metal shavings on the floor. I had to move out the parts and debris, but I had C-3PO, so it was not too much trouble. Anakin had programmed that droid to dote on me, so he was always asking if I was alright or needed anything and was happy to help me. He was an awkward mess, wobbling around with his wires exposed. But that piece of junk made me happy every time I looked at him. I remembered the day Anakin had come home dragging Threepio’s pieces on a burlap rag. He said he had found the parts in a dumpster and couldn’t believe someone had thrown him away.  
  
So the shop was home. I was surprised to see Owen again, once I returned from shopping. Owen’s parents must have been out back with Watto, looking for parts for equipment at home, I assumed. I recognized the brother and sister. They were sitting at the counter, obviously bored.  
  
Watto was too nearby for me to break protocol, so I kept my head down meekly and did not greet them. But Owen greeted me, “Hello,” he smiled shyly. Even if I hadn’t known that he was from the country before, this would have given it away. No free being in Mos Espa would speak to me unless they were giving orders. They certainly wouldn’t be shy with me. The sister didn’t speak at all. They hadn’t been speaking much at all to each other, just standing there.  
  
“Would you two like some water?” I offered. It was a valuable commodity but the poor things looked wilted.  
  
“Yes, please,” Owen said politely.  
  
I filled two tin cups from the storage tank and set them down on the counter. They drank them in a single draught.  
  
“Cliegg, you know we don’t have much money, don’t buy anything unnecessary,” the mother had on a sour expression as the parents came out of the back. Watto followed.  
  
The father was dragging a sledge stacked with parts, “Neema, that’s enough,” the father said to her, then he turned to his son, “Just load those parts into the speeder, Owen.” Owen smiled at me, by way of a ‘thank you and goodbye’ and walked out the door dragging the sledge. Cliegg walked over to the counter and smiled at me, “Well hello, again.”  
  
“Hello,” I kept my eyes downcast.  
  
“We saw you earlier, didn’t we?” he asked. I dared to look up and nodded. “You have the prettiest hair. How do you keep it so nice?”  
  
It was a compliment. I always tried to keep myself clean and tidy. It was one of the little luxuries Watto allowed that other masters might not have tolerated. On Tatooine, pretty slaves were status symbols. I was not exactly some frivolous possession, like a nubile Twi’ilek dancing girl, but Watto did enjoy any attention I received. I smiled shyly but looked askance at Watto. He answered for me, “She’s always using dewback egg yolk to keep it soft. Is nice, no?” Dewback eggs cost almost nothing, but they worked.  
  
“Cliegg, make sure your son secures those to the speeder properly,” the woman seemed a bit high nosed to me.  
  
“Right,” he walked out the door, but smiled at me first.  
  
The mother and daughter remained. The mother barely looked at me, “We will be paying in water. My husband will be right back with the tanks,” I looked at Watto and he waved a hand to say that the trade price had been agreed on.  
  
I started to write up the invoice. Threepio walked out from my room, “Mistress Shmi, you have returned at last! I have been here all afternoon with this Toydarian and he has the disgusting habit of openly scratching himself like some kind of eczematic ronto. Please allow me to put these things away for you,” and he took the bags of supplies I had bought.  
  
“Thank you, Threepio,” I said kindly. Anakin had programmed him to call us “Master” and “Mistress” but he had programmed the droid to believe that Watto was some ill-behaved household pet. Anakin had claimed that he couldn’t override it. Watto didn’t believe that, but couldn’t figure out how to change it. He was too lazy to try very hard and too cheap to pay for a memory wipe, so he lived with it.  
  
“Fancy acting droid,” Neema frowned.  
  
“He’s a snobby sack of poodoo,” Watto griped.  
  
“Oh, dear. You, sir, are deplorable!” Threepio walked to the kitchen.  
  
“Mama, can I have a talking droid someday?” the little girl asked.  
  
“I can’t imagine what we would ever need such a silly thing for, Khaddie,” she seemed to be going out of her way to be rude to me and I couldn’t figure out why. It was not as if I had any power to fight back. Some people were just cruel, I supposed.  
  
“I’d tell you that you could have that one, but Shmi got him as a gift from her son. She is lucky that I am a generous master,” Watto flipped through the inventory on his data pad cataloging the parts he had just sold.  
  
“I’ll say! Letting a slave keep a personal droid,” Neema looked sidelong at where Threepio had exited.  
  
Cliegg and Owen returned carrying standard water tanks with the measurements written on their sides. I lifted each one and weighed it to be sure that the measures were accurate. They weren’t cheating us. Fairness and honesty were in short supply on Tatooine. It was enough to impress me. I smiled at Cliegg as I nodded at the accuracy of the measures. He smiled back very sweetly, “Could you tell me the way to the slave housing, my dear, we are meeting a man named Kant Frith to see about buying a slave from him.”  
  
“Yes, it’s in the east quadrant,” I wrote up and handed him his bill of sale. Neema scowled. She probably couldn’t read.  
  
“She can take you there. That man, Frith, is a liar and a cheat. No one you nice people should be dealing with,” Watto also knew the value of honest partners in business. Therefore, he was being exceedingly kind, “Shmi, take them and make sure that Anacondan in a human costume doesn’t cheat them.”  
  
“Yes, Watto,” I made to go out.  
  
“We will be fine on our own,” Neema scowled at Cliegg.  
  
“Might as well accept the help. Please lead the way, m’lady,” he said to me, and gave me a kind of lop-sided smile. He actually looked me in the eyes.  
  
I didn’t know Kant Frith, he had not been a slave master when I had lived at the slave quarters. He must have been new. When we arrived, I recognized him as someone who had been around the city recently. I remembered something about him coming and winning some slaves from the Hutts by gambling. He was human, but his look was somewhat reptilian, so I got Watto’s joke.  
  
Frith called two slaves out from a house, both of them with large blue eyes and light hair. Sisters, I assumed. The older was around fifteen, the other younger by a few years. Cliegg inspected them, looking for good teeth, clear eyes, strong limbs. He did not get too personal with them the way that some buyers would. He was respectful, asking them if he could before touching them. “How much for them?” he asked Frith finally.  
  
“Three hundred liters for either, five for the pair,” Frith also had a kind of a hissing lisp. I wondered if his name was really ‘Kant Friss’ and people just misunderstood him when he introduced himself.  
  
Cliegg looked remorseful. He probably didn’t want to have to separate sisters, but he could not afford both. He looked at me, as if to ask if the price was fair. I shook my head slightly. “How about four for the two of them?”  
  
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t go that low. It was a good harvest season. I’ll find a buyer to pay the price I ask,” he crossed his arms.  
  
Cliegg looked at the girls with regret. “Then how about two-seventy-five for one?” he asked.  
  
“I might be able to do that,” he looked at a data pad, “Which would you like?”  
  
“Owen?” Cliegg looked at his son.  
  
Owen looked at Neema, unsure of what to do, “Take the older, she looks like she can carry more.”  
  
“Don’t listen to your step-mother, pick whichever you like,” Cliegg put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Owen was sweating, and not just from the heat. He was nervous. This was a more or less traditional wedding proposal among moisture farmers. So it was a big day for him.  
  
He walked up to the younger girl, who had burst into tears and being comforted by her older sister. “We want to free you. We have a farm, you’ll like it there,” he was almost pleading with her. The girl kept her head down.  
  
“You go, Beru, you’ll get to be free,” the older sister hugged her. Beru kept crying.  
  
“Alright, two-seventy-five. She works hard. Her last job was milking banthas at Marlo the Hutt’s vacation estate,” Frith claimed.  
  
I walked over to the girls. Slaves I could speak to with no trouble, “Don’t cry, Beru. It is your good fortune,” I smiled kindly. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “My son was freed last year, and now he’s in a much better place to live whatever life he chooses,” I had to believe that.  
  
“Can we please pay the man and get moving, we need to get back to our hostel before dark, I’m sure this spaceport turns into a gundark nest after suns-set,” Neema grumbled. Cliegg unloaded the water tanks from the speeder.  
  
Beru hugged her sister, “I’ll miss you, Tessa.” Owen led her to the speeder and gently helped her in. Each of the two of them looked as frightened as the other. The rest of the family piled in to the speeder, while I stood with my arm around Tessa.  
  
“Can we give you a ride back to the center?” Cliegg asked me.  
  
“No, I can walk it,” I smiled. This would give me a chance to visit my friends in the slave quarters. As they drove away, Tessa cried softly into my shoulder. “Not dead, just sold on,” I whispered to her.  
  
\--  
  
While Anakin and I lived in Mos Espa, I did my best to give him a happy childhood. Watto was doing pretty well for himself, since he had come from Toydaria to try his luck on wild Tatooine. He was one of these self-made men common in the frontier worlds, men of whom it was best not to ask how they made it. He was scum, I knew, but he was not without kindness and not without humor. He had something akin to affection for us, especially when he noticed Anakin’s abilities.  
  
Anakin had an almost infinite power to repair even the most scrappy droids and machines. He could visualize things unseen. He could almost sense what was wrong with them before he even picked them up. His only limitation seemed to be the availability of parts or tools. But he was resourceful and full of energy. He was constantly scavenging for bits and pieces. He invented or built working parts where they were unavailable. He was always dragging home new machines, covered in filth, with a smile on his face. Watto had other machines and Anakin was constantly modifying them to suit his own purposes, he was so little but confoundingly smart. He and Watto would often have jovial arguments, when Watto was in good spirits. This was probably where Anakin got the idea to speak to whomever he wanted, despite the beatings. He had a tendency to wander, too. Fortunately for him, Watto set our restraining chips with a large radius. He didn’t want Anakin triggering the chip and getting blown to pieces. He was too valuable.  
  
When Watto discovered that he had fast reflexes, he tried to find a use for Anakin that could make him some profit. He took Anakin to test out new pod racers to see if they were worth purchasing. Some of the other junk dealers noticed how well he handled himself and suggested Watto put him in a race. I died inside when he demanded it. Pods were too fast, it was common knowledge that humans couldn’t pilot them, so it could have been a death sentence. But there was nothing I could say. My heart was ripped out during the first race when he crashed and the engines exploded. Somehow, he came out of it unscathed. I asked him how, but he said that he didn’t know. The crash should have ripped him to pieces. He said he had just closed his eyes, stayed calm, and pictured himself in a protective bubble and it had come true. I thought he was just speaking of something in his childish imagination. The second time, he crashed again, but jumped clear of the crash before it exploded, he had just known the right moment to jump. The third time, the pod engines caught fire and they hit the sand and rolled until the flames were out, while his cockpit slid harmlessly across the sand to a stop. He said he had visualized the vents and pictured them closing and they had. Watto declared him the luckiest human in the Outer Rim. I wasn’t so sure it was luck. Even when he was young, Anakin had eyes full of wisdom, like he knew more than his years allowed. I knew he was special, even then.  
  
\--  
  
By Frith’s leave, I told Tessa that I could visit her the next day to see how she was faring and brought her back home. She lived with the rest of his slaves in a two room unit. Ani and I had had spacious quarters, compared. Watto had been more prosperous then. By the time I headed back to the center it was nearly dark. Some of the power generators had come on and the wind had begun to blow. I pressed the panel on the door and let myself in. My radius for my slave transmitter was set wide, too. Watto found that easier than keeping me on a short leash. I could run errands in any part of the city. Watto hated going out in the sun. “Did everything go alright?” he asked me in Huttese. It was what we spoke most of the time. Anakin and I always spoke Basic at home. I never could get rid of my Zygerrian accent, though.  
  
“As good as can be expected, I suppose. You were right about Frith,” I smiled a little bit.  
  
“He’s scum,” Watto flapped his wings and went up to his perch. He had a little room set into the shop ceiling. It could only be reached by flying. I assumed that was where he kept his private papers, my deactivation device, things like that.  
  
“I daresay, we should get supper started,” Threepio reminded me.  
  
“I’m sorry, Threepio, I just don’t feel much like eating,” seeing family members separated still bothered me.  
  
\--  
  
The next day, Watto gave me leave to visit Tessa. I brought her a kanos grain cake that I had made. I still ate better than most slaves. Kanos were a kind of gritty seed that grew wild. They tasted kind of chalky, but you could hold it together with a syrup to make a little cake. Sweets were a luxury most slaves couldn’t afford, so for me, to give cakes to others was a personal tradition. It was my way of sharing my small good fortune with those who had less.  
  
We sat on the terrace and split the cake. “Tell me about your sister,” I asked her. When we said goodbye to someone we loved, it was comforting to talk and remember them.  
  
“Beru is so sweet! She is gentle and kind, even to the animals. Do you think they will take good care of her?”  
  
“They did not seem like cruel people to me,” I told her honestly.  
  
“That mother did,” she pointed out. I did not want to make her feel negatively, but secretly, I agreed.  
  
\--  
  
It was four years before I saw Owen again. This was five years after my son went away. That was how I counted time. He would have been fourteen, I recalled. I had been sort of lost in daydreams all day, thinking of what he might be doing, what he might be like. It was difficult to picture. When other people’s sons were sold on, they could wonder if the son would grow up like his father. I didn’t even have that. I just hoped he didn’t turn out meek like me.  
  
I had brought some of Watto’s water to the market to trade and was bringing back the food again. Cliegg’s speeder was parked outside the shop. Owen was beside the speeder again, this time with Beru. She looked healthy. Owen was carrying a cup of the electrolyte gel that they sell from stalls. They would both be about sixteen, I estimated. Beru smiled when he handed it to her. “Here, Beru,” he said and put the back of his hand against her cheek, “Please sit, you don’t want to get heat exhaustion.”  
  
“Hello, Owen, Beru.” I hazarded to speak to them. Watto was inside so he wouldn’t know. He also probably didn’t care. He had softened a lot, or I had become emboldened. Either way, we were much more of a partnership than we had been before. The last few years had been hard on both of us, a drought had come and plague had followed. We had had to sell most of what we could but we needed each other in order to get through it. I kept his books, I knew about his debts.  
  
“Hello,” they both said.  
  
Beru looked at me and raised her eyebrows slightly. I realized what she might want to know. “Is Tessa still in Mos Espa?” she asked. She seemed to have lost some of her slave meekness, too. I remembered that she was free.  
  
“No. She was sold on soon after you. I never got the name of the man who bought her,” I hung my head. I was sorry I couldn’t do more. I felt like I’d failed her. “Did everyone make it through the drought?” this was a common question around Mos Espa between friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.  
  
“My step-mom and sister died,” free people were always very clear about death, I mused.  
  
I felt for him, “Did you want to come into the shop for some shade?”  
  
“Dad told us to wait outside,” Owen was taller and his little boy chubbiness was giving way to a young man’s frame.  
  
“Should I go inside and get you some chairs at least?” I asked. Beru smiled. It must have amused her to have a slave try to wait on her.  
  
“Shmi!” Watto called from inside.  
  
“Excuse me,” I bowed my head to Owen and Beru and went in.  
  
Cliegg was there with Watto sharing a drink. He walked over to me, “May I see your teeth?” he asked. I stood in my tracks. Never in a million years did I expect this. The traditional proposal of the Tatooine moisture farmer. I had assumed that I would never be married. I was getting older and was nearly beyond my breeding years. Watto and I were incompatible, so he would never want to make me a wife. I thought that I would just stay with him until he lost me betting or one of us died. From what I understood of Cliegg’s situation, I was to be a partner, the keeper of a household, and raise his children. I was not some means of getting children, but he was granting some respectability to someone who had none at all. It was certainly an improvement in my station. It was practically a love match in our world. I showed him my teeth. He looked in my eyes to see that they were clear. I saw something there, a tenderness that I had never seen in another person before. He was looking at me, not through me. I blushed. He called to his son, “Owen, unload three-hundred.”  
  
Watto followed me to my room as I packed up my things. I didn’t personally own much. Just some clothes, some tools, and C-3PO. “You know, Shmi, if you don’t want the droid, I could sell him for you. We could split…fifty-fifty. Maybe he’s worth something as a translator,” he asked me cagily in Huttese.  
  
“Goodness, me! You no-good swindler!” Threepio was distressed.  
  
“I think I’ll hang on to him, Watto, he reminds me of Anakin,” I responded in that language and folded my two other dresses. Most slaves had one set of clothes. I was more fortunate. It occurred to me then that Watto had treated me nicely all these years because he still felt badly about selling my son. That was a serious amount of compassion for a Toydarian. I might even miss him, I thought, amused.  
  
\--  
  
I had been at home working on small parts, when that man returned. He struck an imposing figure, two meters tall, with his dashing long hair and beard and handsome, world weary face. He looked like what I always imagined a knight in shining armor to be. He had made me feel things I hadn’t felt for a man before. I dreamed of what my life could have been, if I hadn’t been a slave, asleep at night with a man beside me who loved me. It was all a fantasy, but it had been one I remembered for years to come.  
  
He walked in behind Anakin, “Mom, we sold the pod, look at all the money we have!”  
  
“Oh my goodness, but that’s so wonderful, Ani!” I took his hands in mine.  
  
“And he has been freed,” Qui Gon said. I felt as if my heart stopped. I tried to smile to convey joy, but was only able to grimace in pain.  
  
“What?” Anakin was in disbelief.  
  
“You’re no longer a slave,” Qui Gon shrugged. I felt my heart start beating again, but every thump sounded in my ears.  
  
“Did you hear that?” my son asked me. I wasn’t sure I had wanted to.  
  
“Now you can make your dreams come true, Ani. You’re free,” I looked down and exhaled, “Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?” I know I believed in Jedi, despite what Watto tried to say. We had heard stories, but most people had never actually seen a Jedi, certainly not on Tatooine. Most people thought they were myths. I wasn’t certain Qui Gon was what my son said he was, but I had to take the chance. Anakin could not stay on Tatooine. He was meant for more. The only thing I knew was that this man had come and he made things happen. I had to believe in him.  
  
“Yes. Our meeting was not a coincidence,” He crossed his arms in his loose sleeves, “Nothing happens by accident.”  
  
“You mean I get to come with you in your starship?” Anakin had only been out of Mos Espa to go to the races.  
  
“Anakin, training to become a Jedi is not an easy challenge. And even if you succeed, it’s a hard life,” Qui Gon told him. Compared to what? I wondered. Certainly not a slave’s life.  
  
“But I want to go, it’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing. Can I go, Mom?” he was asking me as if I had any choice in the matter.  
  
“Anakin, this path has been placed before you,” I took his hand, “The choice is yours alone.” He was a child. I thought he might not understand what he was choosing. But Anakin was not to be dissuaded.  
  
“I want to do it,” he was excited.  
  
“Then pack your things. We haven’t much time,” Qui Gon told him.  
  
Anakin ran towards his room, but then he paused in the doorway and turned, “What about Mom? Is she free, too?”  
  
“I tried to free your mother, but Watto wouldn’t have it,” Qui Gon told him.  
  
“You’re coming with us, aren’t you, Mom?”   
  
My heart felt like a stone.  
  
“Son, my place is here, my future is here. It is time for you to let go,” I was being deliberately cold, which was not what I felt. I wanted to hold him close and never stop.  
  
“I don’t want things to change.”  
  
“But you can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting,” I mustered all of my strength to push him away, to get him clear, so that I could save his life. That is what a parent does for their children. “I love you,” I hugged him, “Now, hurry.” And he ran away.  
  
I stood a bit stiffly, I had to keep my feelings under control. He could not see me sad or he would never go. I looked briefly up at Qui Gon, “Thank you,” I said somewhat coldly and turned my back to him.  
  
He moved behind me, “I’ll watch out for him. You have my word.” I hoped that this knight was as honorable as I imagined. Then he put his large hand on my shoulder and I felt waves of something wash over me, comforting me and giving me peace. “Will you be alright?” I whispered an almost imperceptible response. I imagined again another life I might have had. I imagined him by my side, as a father to Ani, and my happy little boy as our pride and joy. Just a silly fantasy, I scolded myself.  
  
Anakin came out of his room with his pack. Qui Gon knelt beside him, “Now Ani, we have to deactivate that restraining chip. Watto gave me the deactivator.” These chips could only unlock one code, unique to the implant. The master was always in possession of them.  
  
Qui Gon pulled out the device and held it over Anakin’s right arm. It sent out bolts of electricity that shocked the device.  
  
“Ow,” Anakin gritted his teeth. The device beeped and went dark. Anakin looked at his arm. He had been trying to find his chip since he was old enough to know it was there, always trying to find some way of deactivating it. The look on his face was one of disbelief.  
  
\--  
  
Cliegg drove on for a while. Then he turned to me, “We’re staying on the outskirts. I sold most of the water, most of the rest will go to the hostel. Watto tells me you used to keep his books, I could use a good bookkeeper on the farm,” he smiled, “And he says you’re an inventive cook. Beru has always wanted us to get some banthas. Maybe we will be able to afford some, next harvest.”  
  
I nodded, trying to seem obedient. He parked the speeder in a lot surrounded by plasma fences. We all descended and walked into a hostel where he had taken two rooms. Threepio carried my pack, walking behind me and looking around nervously. I was getting nervous myself. I really wasn’t sure what Cliegg would do now. I had been signed over to him, not released. I was still technically his slave. He was free to do what he wanted. To my surprise, he took us to a room and said, “Shmi, you and Beru are here. Owen and I are down the hall. The hostel serves dinner at suns-set on the roof. We’ll see you there.” And just like that, he left.  
  
Beru saw my confusion, “They won’t hurt us,” she reassured me, “I know some owners would. But they are not like that. I have been with them for years and Owen has never even tried to kiss me without permission. They need us to survive. They want us to be their wives someday, but it is dangerous enough in the Jundland Wastes without having someone in your own household who has reason to kill you. They have never beaten me or punished me and we have all worked together like a family. It is a lot of hard work, but out there, nobody is disposable. Everybody matters.”  
  
“I suppose that’s true,” I smiled, “I’m sorry about Tessa. I know you were hoping to see her here.”  
  
Beru looked sad, “I was. But she’s not dead, just sold on. I like to imagine her somewhere cooler, maybe with rivers, or green plants. Or maybe even somewhere that you can swim.” She said dreamily. She had a soft heart. “You told me that you had a son. Do you know where he is?”  
  
“No. But I like to picture him somewhere that he is loved.” I didn’t like to talk about it, “Maybe someday the harvest will be good enough that we can find them one day. Maybe they’ll come find us.” The eternal hope of the slave.  
  
\--  
  
Anakin was trotting behind Qui Gon who was striding easily with his long legs. Qui Gon was not even looking behind him to see if Anakin could keep up. Suddenly, Anakin stopped, turned, and came running back to me. Qui Gon turned and waited.  
  
My son ran into my arms and hugged me tight. I kissed his cheek, but I steeled myself. Tears stood in his eyes, “I can’t do it, Mom, I just can’t do it.”  
  
“Ani…” I was in agony.  
  
“Will I ever see you again?” he seemed so small. Just a little boy.  
  
“What does your heart tell you?” I was kneeling and looking into his eyes.  
  
“I hope so…yes…I guess.”  
  
“Then we will see each other again,” I smiled. It took all of my strength to do so. I sighed.  
  
“I will come back and free you, Mom. I promise,” I wished he hadn’t sworn it. He had no idea if he would be able to keep his word.  
  
“Now,” I touched his face. My precious child. My only son. My everything. “Be brave. Don’t look back….don’t look back.” I stood and turned him and gently pushed him on his first steps. I sighed externally and wrapped my arms around my mid-section as if physically trying to contain my feelings. Inside, I screamed.  
  
\--  
  
After dinner, Beru, Owen, Cliegg and I were sitting on the roof terrace of the hostel. The food hadn’t been anything fancy, but it was real bantha meat. I was so glad to have some protein that was better than jerba ribs. When Anakin was with me, I’d made them all the time, but truthfully, jerba is a pretty mangy beast.  
  
We were a quiet group, compared to some Rhodians at the next table who were playing dice and swearing at each other drunkenly with every toss. A couple of Weequay were lounging. I had greeted them in their language and they had joked a little with me. I could speak to who I wanted, it was a strange feeling. A few Jawas were disassembling a scrappy protocol droid. It looked like the thing had been blown apart by a blaster. His internal wiring was pretty fried. Threepio was wailing every time they zapped the droid to try to disarticulate its limbs.  
  
Finally, Cliegg stood and came to stand in front of me. Then he knelt down and pulled something out of a pouch on his belt. He looked up at me, again with a tender look. “Shmi, it’s about time I did this,” he showed me the deactivator. “Some of us country farmers just take slaves home and make use of them like they were droids. Owen and I are not like that. I hate slavery, it disgusts me. We’re sentient beings. I lived off world, that’s where I met Owen’s mom. We didn’t have much in this universe, life wasn’t easy, but we were happy because we weren’t alone. We had each other. We always worked together, we helped each other, we protected each other. That’s what family does. As far as I am concerned, you are family now.” He moved the device up and down over my arms and legs to locate my chip. He found it in my shoulder.  
  
I shrugged off my outer tunic to expose the skin and I looked him in the eyes. He began again, “I have thought about you every day since I saw you all those years ago. You were kind to my children. I knew that you had a good heart. I could see it in your eyes. I could see that you knew what it was like to be sad, what it was like to lose something, but that being hurt had not beaten you. Even in all your hardship, you still found little bits of happiness. My first wife was like that. No matter how hard things got, she could always find some good in things. She never gave in to despair. I could see that strength in you,” he glanced at the device and pressed the button. A bolt of electricity shot into my shoulder. I winced with pain. The light on the device went out. Cliegg stood and offered his hands to me, I took them in mine. “Shmi, you are free now. You can say no, take your time to think if you want. But I want you to be my wife. I don’t have much, but I will do my best every day to make you happy, I promise.”  
  
I thought for a moment, but finally acquiesced with a nod. It was the wedding of a Tatooine moisture farmer. I stood and hugged Cliegg. Owen kissed me and called me ‘Mom’. Beru and I hugged. The Weequay cheered and brought over a bottle and the Rhodians clapped us on the backs as congratulations. The Jawas gave up and asked me if I wanted to buy the droid’s corroded coverings. Cliegg laughed and said I could have them as a wedding present. Threepio had been whining about having coverings since Anakin left. Before that, he hadn’t known what they were, but somehow after Qui Gon had shown up, he became very modest about being ‘naked’.  
  
The next day, we got ready to depart for Mos Eisley. Cliegg held my hand as Threepio and Owen packed up. With the last of the water, he had purchased a crate of dewback eggs. I smiled when I saw them, flattered that he’d remembered. There I was, beside a man who loved me, watching our son, who was good and kind. We were happy. It was beyond what I had ever hoped for myself. Somewhere, I hoped that my son was happy, too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Not Dead, Just Sold On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207427) by [KeeperofSeeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds)




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